


Dry My Eyes So I Won't Show

by stpitbull



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stpitbull/pseuds/stpitbull





	Dry My Eyes So I Won't Show

It was Boone's idea, oddly enough. It made sense -- Boone was the one who had sat in that bunker for days, waiting for that gaschamber door to open and Beau to come back. He was the one who had guided him back to the 38, countless poorly-tended injuries impeding his movement. Boone was the one who stood at the door of the master bedroom like a watchdog that night Arcade passed by.   
  
"Hey," Arcade had greeted him softly. Boone grunted in response, and Arcade looked in at the lanky, folded body on the bed. Something piercing took hold of Arcade's chest -- Beau had come to Vegas with the kind of personality that filled a room corner to corner. He had never looked this small. "I take it he's having more nightmares."   
  
"Don't know when they're gonna go away," Boone admitted quietly. The pair stood watching Beau's sleeping form twitch, both equally helpless for what to do.   
  
Then Beau let out a horrible keen of pain, body curling up into itself and it was like some buried instinct took hold of Boone, propelling him into the room and to Beau's bedside. He had dropped to a crouch and started threading his fingers through Beau's hair.   
  
Arcade walked into the room as though on stilts, feeling horribly awkward and ungainly. And more than a little guilty. He was the one who had been flirting with Beau since the day they met. Back when Beau was sunny and full of energy, not just another idealist the wasteland decided to crush. They had started something, nothing more serious than a playful back-and-forth but it was going somewhere. And now Boone was the one taking charge, unselfconsciously murmuring quiet placations as Beau's eyes fluttered open. Something Arcade couldn't place happened at the sight, making his heart swell uncomfortably.   
  
"It's okay," Boone said softly, hand still in Beau's hair. "We're here. We're not going to let anything get you."   
  
  
  
  
It hadn't even occurred to Boone for it to be awkward. And it wasn't. Well, the first night, they needed a few minutes to figure out where everyone's limbs went, three grown men trying to fit into one bed. But Beau quietly confessed how good it felt to be sandwiched snug between them, and that was enough. Every time he started to whine or thrash, there were four arms to wrap around him, holding him tightly until the moment passed. However long that took.   
  
None of them could get adequate sleep in a mere eight hours like this, but Beau was forbidden from trying to do anything outside of their home until he was recovered. The war could wait. Even Boone knew it. Yeah, it was important. But those people were strangers. This was Beau.   
  
Beau, who woke up from one particularly awful dream panting like he had been running at full charge. He had fallen asleep facing Arcade that night, Arcade who run a hand through Beau's hair while the courier gulped in aching lungfuls of air.   
  
"I hate this," Beau panted raggedly. "I can't-- I can't do this. I feel so goddamn  _weak_ . I'm a grown-ass man bein' brought down by nightmares. It's pathetic."   
  
"It's  _not_  pathetic," Arcade said, voice gentle but firm. Boone looked at him from over Beau's shoulder, the way his eyes focused softly with some raw, undefined emotion that Boone identified with in a way he had never even noticed. Arcade smoothed over Beau's hair again, hand resting on his neck as he said, "What you went through would have broken a lesser man."   
  
"I  _feel_  broken," Beau said.

"You're not broken," Boone said. Arcade's eyes glanced over and caught his. He had half-expected to see some kind of jealousy in them, some territoriality -- everyone who had been in a room with the two of them knew that Beau and Arcade had been inching their way to being more than friends, back when Beau was a lively little punk. But he didn't see anything like that in the doctor's eyes. No, just this kind of understanding, of acceptance. Boone wasn't sure for what. But Arcade looked sure.   
  
"You're not broken. Just hurt. But nothing's gonna get you," Boone said softly, tightening his arm around the kid's waist. "You're safe. We've got you." He felt Beau slowly relax in his arms, could feel Arcade's hand trapped against Boone's stomach rubbing small soothing circles against the kid's lower back. Beau's breathing slowed, grew deeper, and he had nestled his head under Arcade's chin. Boone allowed himself a small, barely-there kiss against the nape of Beau's neck, not knowing what it meant. Not knowing if it had to mean anything.   
  
  
  
  
It had seemed like Beau was getting better. It honestly had. But this night was so much worse somehow, Beau's lean body quaking, tears leaking out of his clenched eyes as Boone smoothed his hair, trying to coax him gently out of the personal hell sleep trapped him in.   
  
His eyes finally blinked open, still wet, still terrified until he focused on Boone, his breath coming in gasps as his body finally relaxed, shaking. Arcade's arms tightened where they encircled his waist, Boone repeating his prayer of calming placations in the low, steady voice that usually flooded Beau's body with comfort, with safety.   
  
But it wasn't working.   
  
He still felt ice cold in his gut, could feel the heavy collar around his neck. Could still hear the radios, garbled static-addled voices purring at him to meet his sudden, gruesome death.   
  
"Breathe," Boone's command finally broke through the imaginary din and got through to him. " _Breathe_ ."   
  
He did. He did his best.   
  
"What can we do?" Arcade asked softly, nose brushing against Beau's hair.    
  
Beau shut his eyes, feeling remnants of tears leaking out the corners. Feeling Boone's thumb brush them away. "I hate that you have to do  _anything_ ," he said, voice choked.   
  
"Well, get over it," Arcade said, tugging him closer. "Tell us what you need, anything."   
  
"Anything," Boone repeated solemnly.   
  
"There's nothing. I just. I need to--" He sucked in air, eyes shut tight. "I need to feel something. I need to feel something other than this. Because I still can."

There was a moment, where he felt something pass through him between the men on either side of him. A silent correspondence in the language they'd learned while being his wardens. Something heavy and charged that made his heart pound. It was confusing, just mixing with the static in his head until he felt Arcade's arms loosen, hands running across his stomach warm and heavy with intent. Boone's hands caressing the length of his arms, unsteady but sure.   
  
"God, yes," he choked, eyes shutting close as Arcade pressed a firm kiss into his shoulder, lips searing hot through the fabric of his shirt. " _Please_ . Yes."   
  
Boone's hands slid up to touch his face, fingertips exploring skin like a foreign untouched landscape, before leaning in to brush his mouth against Beau's. Beau let loose an aching noise of gratitude, his own hand slipping around to navigate the dip of Boone's spine, Arcade mouthing at his neck.   
  
This. This was what he needed, his entire body sang out. Being caught between two warm, solid bodies, four hands wandering the expanse of his flesh, three hearts pounding in time.   
  
He had dragged Boone back from the edge and done whatever it took to prove to him that he was more than some curse from someone else's mistake, that there was no way Beau was going to let him sacrifice himself. He had whisked Arcade away for a life of adventure and worked hard to earn his trust, let him know that there was at least one person who would be there no matter what the shiftiness over his past was about. He carried both their demons as his own. He loved them both desperately. And fighting beside a man changes your relationship with him, he'd learned. With each of them he was bonded in the spill of blood and the stitching of wounds, something deeper than friends and more complex than lovers. They were both knit into his bones. And now he was nestled between them, Arcade's big hands exploring his chest and pressing him back against his solid torso, Boone's hands cupping his face as he kissed his lips, his forehead, the bridge of his nose, the corners of his eyes with the same quiet, deliberate intensity he brought to everything else in life.   
  
A sharp, new edge of terror rang out somewhere deep in his belly. Because this was going to change everything. Just like the nightmares had changed everything. Even if he stopped them right now, said he was satisfied and let's all go back to sleep, there was no going back.   
  
But he couldn't stop them. Wouldn't. Because when he caught the look Boone tossed across his shoulder to Arcade, something between permission and an order, and felt two of the hands on his body slip under his shirt, he knew there was no going back for him, either.   
  
He stayed trapped between their bodies as clothing was stripped from him, from them, the sensation of so much skin on skin chasing away all the terror in his bones and replacing it with something tight and hot. Boone kissed him still as he reached down and undid his trousers, and Arcade's hand slipped into his boxers, drawing forth a harsh gasp from Beau as long fingers wrapped around his length. Beau let loose a litany of moans as he tilted his head back to rest on Arcade's shoulder, Boone kissing the length of his throat reverently, Arcade's cock grinding into his ass hard through their remaining clothing. He didn't even realize he had started saying actual words until Boone brought his face back down with a hand on his jaw and silenced them with a fierce kiss. "We love you, too," Arcade was breathing into his ear.   
  
"We love you  _so_  much," Boone said raggedly against his lips, gasping like it stole his breath, the mere permission to say it. The three of them trying to stay as tangled as possible as they shed each other of the last of their clothes.

Boone kept kissing Beau languidly, all hot brushes of tongue and hands threaded in his hair, as Arcade worked him open with spit-slicked fingers and trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses against his neck, his shoulder. He groaned into Boone's mouth when Arcade carefully pushed into him, his arms wrapped around the sniper's shoulders as he lost his breath, head falling against Boone's shoulder. Arcade steadied his hands on Beau's hips as he rocked deep into him, Boone nuzzling against his jaw while breathing promises that he was safe, they were there, nothing could get him, they wouldn't let anything hurt him. They same steady prayer, in gusts of hot breath and swollen lips against his damp skin.   
  
Beau angled his leg to wrap around Boone's waist, tugging him closer and savoring the loud, frayed moan as the friction of their hot flesh colliding. "You too," Beau said. "I need to feel you too. I need to feel both of you."   
  
Arcade slowed but did not still, and Boone looked him directly in the eyes. "Are you sure?"   
  
"The last thing we want is to hurt you--" Arcade started to say, but he was quieted by Boone's hand resting on top of his own on Beau's hip. Boone's eyes were still locked with Beau's as he asked again, "Are you  _sure_ ."   
  
"Yes," Beau said fervent and breathless. "Please. Yes."   
  
Boone took a deep, steadying breath, and spat in his hand to slick himself up, the improvised lubricant mixing with precome as Arcade hitched a hand under Beau's thigh and lifted it, spreading Beau open as Boone positioned himself. Boone looked at him again, and Beau nodded, breath quickening further but certain, this was what he needed. Boone kissed him hard, and pushed into him.   
  
"Breathe, baby,  _breathe_ ," he realized Arcade was saying urgently against the nape of his neck.   
  
Beau sucked in gulps of air as he pressed his forehead into Boone's shoulder, his two wardens finding their rhythm, gasping and cursing around his head as they both rocked against him, into him, stretching him further than he'd ever imagined he could handle. He gripped Boone's thick upper arm, feeling so  _full_ , every drag and burn of the two men inside him going straight to his cock where it was trapped against Boone's stomach, the friction almost enough with every movement Boone made.   
  
He realized again they were talking to him, vaguely registering Arcade asking if he was okay. "Don't stop," he panted, moaning wantonly as both men obediently picked up the pace.

Arcade came first, hands gripping Beau's hips hard enough to bruise and teeth digging into his shoulder around a strangled groan. He stilled Boone's movements with a hand on his hip so he could carefully pull out, Beau groaning at the loss. Arcade grabbed his face and tugged it over, swallowing the groan with a messy kiss as Boone's hands cupped his ass, pumping into him harder, making up for the sudden absence of extra flesh inside of him. Beau was babbling encouragement, pleading for more and falling partially onto his back as Arcade shifted to give them more room.   
  
Arcade supported himself on one elbow and worked a hand between them, encircling Beau's cock with a firm rhythm that Beau greeted with a grateful sob. He threw his head back, watched as Boone and Arcade's eyes met, Boone reaching out for a fistful of blonde hair, the doctor's skin still flushed pink as he tilted his head and closed his eyes, tongue meeting Boone's in a deep, sloppy kiss. The sight sent Beau rocketing over the edge, spilling with a raw cry into Arcade's hand, sticky ropes escaping onto Boone's chest. He caught Arcade's hand as he tried to pull it away, bringing it to his lips and sucking his come off the doctor's fingers. Boone let loose a ragged, needy noise and he slammed into the courier, coming inside of him in hot, wet bursts.   
  
He collapsed down onto his elbows, Beau stroking his back as the sniper curled into him, gasping for breath. After a moment he withdrew and flopped to his side. Arcade leaned across Beau to lap the courier's come off of Boone's chest, Boone's breath hitching and his hand threaded through disheveled blonde hair, Beau's softening cock trying desperately to react as he watched each long, firm stroke of Arcade's tongue.   
  
Soon he was nestled between them again, warm with a kind of boneless exhaustion he hadn't experienced in ages, falling asleep to the feeling of lips at the crook of his neck, warm breath against his face. His last thought before drifting into a restful sleep that he could definitely handle everything changing. If this was the change, then there was no going back.


End file.
